Night Palace appears as a culmination of eras, arrived at after tumbling through decades of a tumultuous life and building from scratch in the settled dust. The 26 track album is a palace of many rooms, all welcoming, all varied. The songs stand vivid in their diamond sharp eloquence and distorted feedback, but only after traveling the album as a whole do we find the door. The palace is dilapidated with moss dripping through, airy, bright and open. This is a return to the beloved deep analog fuzz world of the Microphones' the Glow pt. 2 (2001) and the many thickly embroidered Mount Eerie universes that have followed. Smashed tape, breathing air organs, crackling tube amps and a welcome living reality just outside the open window all entwine to push the definition of what's "home" and what's "studio", of what's a "song" and what's at the heart of the unmediated idea itself. Phil Elverum has slowly acquired an underground cult status since the late 1990's for exactly this kind of work; building recorded atmospheric worlds that are distinctly bottomless with a fuzzed out mystery, while the songs themselves speak with a raw intimacy that can be shocking to hear. These are recordings of an individual mind and heart going deeper within while turning over each stone along the way. Mount Eerie released another ambitious world of an album called Sauna in 2014. Immediately after, Elverum became a father and then his partner fell ill with a fatal cancer and died a year later. These and other brutal waves of change kept pounding for years and it was all documented in the white knuckle songwriting on the albums A Crow Looked At Me (2017), Now Only (2018) and Lost Wisdom pt. 2 (2019). After a natural disaster, things do grow back. A person catching their breath after a traumatic experience has a kind of reoriented clarity. Art that is made without urgency or expectation has a chance to reach beyond the usual. It was in this patient clarity that Night Palace came to be written and recorded from 2022 to 2024. Elverum's life settled back down and he reassembled the old analog reel to reel studio at his quiet deep woods home and began experimenting again. "I saw lighting last night, but heard nothing", the first song's first words announce. Mystery is back! Over the next 80 minutes the songs weave our concrete reality together with the charged and rippling world beyond. Birds squawk and we speak back. These are songs of re-surrendering to a state of wonder and abandoning the wrung-dry skepticism that this hard world can impose. And here is the hard world too, in songs of decolonization and backwoods protest. "Some zen, some Zinn" Elverum has joked. With two feet on the ground, he writes with a sharp eye trained toward the quiet flashes in the blue distance. The ground shifts. The vinyl release of Night Palace will come as two LPs wrapped in a gigantic poster (62"x43") packed with imagery and fully annotated lyrics. NOTE: It's not a record jacket, it's a huge piece of paper. It won't be immaculately crisp-cornered. As always, this physical version is considered the official "full" embodiment of this work. Read more on Last.fm.

Wind's Poem is the name of the fourth full-length album by Mount Eerie. It is largely inspired by black metal, and showcases Phil Elvrum in his "relatively newfound affinity for Xasthur and other lynchpins of the unholy genre." Read more on Last.fm.

Clear Moon is the fifth studio album by Mount Eerie, released May 22, 2012. It is the first of two albums to be released by Mount Eerie in 2012. Phil Elvrum described Clear Moon as the lighter of the two albums.[3] The album was recorded between October 3, 2010 and January 7, 2012 in Anacortes, Washington.[1] Elvrum cited Burzum, Terry Riley and Steve Reich as influences on the album. Read more on Last.fm.

Ocean Roar is the sixth studio album by Mount Eerie, released on August 29, 2012. It is the second of two albums released by Mount Eerie in 2012. Phil Elvrum described Ocean Roar as a "counterpoint to the soft synth walls and landscape pondering of Clear Moon, presenting the opposite of that album’s clear glints of awareness: a total wall of blue-grey oceanic fog, a half remembered dream of a trip through dense old growth hills to the gnarly winter ocean, in the middle of the night, decades ago." Read more on Last.fm.

WRITTEN AND RECORDED August 31st to Dec. 6th, 2016 in the same room where Geneviève died, using mostly her instruments, her guitar, her bass, her pick, her amp, her old family accordion, writing the words on her paper, looking out the same window. Why share this much? Why open up like this? Why tell you, stranger, about these personal moments, the devastation and the hanging love? Our little family bubble was so sacred for so long. We carefully held it behind a curtain of privacy when we’d go out and do our art and music selves, too special to share, especially in our hyper-shared imbalanced times. Then we had a baby and this barrier felt even more important. (I still don’t want to tell you our daughter’s name.) Then in May 2015 they told us Geneviève had a surprise bad cancer, advanced pancreatic, and the ground opened up. What matters now? we thought. Then on July 9th 2016 she died at home and I belonged to nobody anymore. My internal moments felt like public property. The idea that I could have a self or personal preferences or songs eroded down into an absurd old idea leftover from a more self-indulgent time before I was a hospital-driver, a caregiver, a child-raiser, a griever. I am open now, and these songs poured out quickly in the fall, watching the days grey over and watching the neighbors across the alley tear down and rebuild their house. I make these songs and put them out into the world just to multiply my voice saying that I love her. I want it known. "Death Is Real" could be the name of this album. These cold mechanics of sickness and loss are real and inescapable, and can bring an alienating, detached sharpness. But it is not the thing I want to remember. A crow did look at me. There is an echo of Geneviève that still rings, a reminder of the love and infinity beneath all of this obliteration. That’s why. - Phil Elverum Dec. 11th, 2016 Anacortes Read more on Last.fm.